


Make me love myself so that I can love you.

by strilalonde



Category: BnHA, Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: M/M, Villain Midoriya Izuku, villain, villain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strilalonde/pseuds/strilalonde
Summary: BNHA Villain AU.Izuku Midoriya is unforginvingly broken and the league uses that to their advantage.Depressed, hurt and bitter, Deku goes along with it.





	1. Memories hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love the villain au with my Wholeass heart and wanted to write. Idk if I will keep doing it. 
> 
> I doubt anyone will read this, but if you do let me know if I should continue.

A heavy heart makes the world in its entirety feel dreadful. The distinct cracks spread across the red flesh is painful, desperately aching for repair that will never come. This feeling is continuous, a metaphorical and unavoidable grip latched onto it. It brings you to your knees late at night. It makes your chest pound with pain, your lungs heave, it leaves your eyes watering frantically as emotions spill in hopes of restoration of sanity. Nothing good ever comes from it.

The same unforgiving loop.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs, but that’s not acceptable. So you weep to yourself.

**> Pain.**

Pale hands, scarred and shaky are held in front of a pair of tired and teary eyes. They jerk, uncontrollable and nearly hysterical spasms of emotional pain force movement upon the figure in a dimly lit room. They’re hunched and suddenly the hands move to grip the fabric of the shirt the figure dons, palms pressing roughly against where their heart would belong. It physically hurts, or it seems like it, but there’s nothing much they can do about it. All there is is suffering at this point.

Eyes are quick to blink away salty tears, lashes and cheek wet and sticky due to the amount let loose. Once they’re relatively clear they seem to shift up at a cracked mirror tacked haphazardly to a wall. The wet hues meet deep emerald green ones of a smiling boy, freckled and full of life.

“Hey!”

He smiles so wide, the wind blowing messy hair wild. He waves at the figure on the other side of the mirror, unaware of the mental state they’re currently in. A delicate hand joins the area, softly pressing behind the boys head in intention of guiding him. The hand then ruffles up his hair playfully and lovingly before leading him away and out of the mirror.

“Let’s go, Izuku. Your friend is waiting for you.”

“Kacchan!”

Tired and pained eyes meet the outcome of that boy. He’s not the same anymore, unhealthy and depressed. He can feel his jaw tense, the grip on the fabric becoming tighter. The sight brings him further distress and he can’t bear to look at it. He fights making a loud noise by breaking the damned reflection of this self by hunching over entirely, forehead pressing against the cold floor. He can hear his quick breathing as well as the taunting sound of a clock ticking behind him. He should be asleep, preparing for the following day. A lot was supposed to be taken care of, but here he was recreating a scene that occurs every single night.

**> Pathetic.**

Sometimes Izuku Midoriya wonders how quick the devil would reach up from the depths of hell to pull him down, punish him for all he’s done. He wonders if it would really be so horrible as to take one of the plethora of knives and press the sharp blade into his neck. Would it be so bad to dangle from a neatly tied rope? Would it be horrid to take a gun and place the barrel at the roof of his mouth. How fast could he pull the trigger?

The answer would be two seconds.

He wonders what crossing over to the other side would be if it exists. Would he feel everything and then nothing? His soul suddenly damned to float in a deep void, moving constantly but never ceasing anywhere because in the void there is nothing. Would he descend into that aforementioned hell, forced to eat fire for the life he’s allowed to present. Or if there’s a God, would he pity him enough to give him those pearly wings he deserved when he was a child? There’s so many options, and while none of them could be wrong, any of them could be right. Sometimes he’s curious enough to find out, but never that daring as to go through.

He truly is weak.

Sucking in air through his teeth, the teen closes his eyes before sitting up straight. Every movement seemed to be felt intensely, as if all this emotion is making him more aware. He can distinctly feel his teeth grind, how one of his back teeth has a weirder feeling than the rest. How one of his sharp canines almost get caught on lower ones. He can intensely feel how each bone and muscle in his body works as he shifts himself to his feet. How his right ankle hurts from getting kicked hours earlier. Once to his feet, it’s almost as if gravity and the world itself was attempting to weigh him back down.

  
He can feel how his heart and chest hurts. How his shoulders seemingly don’t exist as he forces himself over to his desk chair. He can feel relief in his legs as he sits down, and he can feel as his lungs heave air. Frankly, it’s all too much, but necessary. It’s necessary to feel.

Sniffing, his hand shifts to rub under his nose, and then cold fingers run under dark and puffy eyes. His eyes lock onto the computer screen, his work still open and ready for more progress. He knows he’ll end up working on it again within a couple hours, so there’s no point in shutting it off. The same routine is yet another loop he abides by.

“....C....Christ...” He lets out, shakily enough. All there was is to wait for himself to return to normal. Countenance unreadable, body movement typical. Sometimes he’d hide the fact he has the shakes, which was normal. The only thing wasn’t so we’re in fact those pathetic eyes.

Leaning back in his chair for a moment, he closes his eyes once more in order to himself. It’s difficult, it always is, especially with crippling thoughts you bed and plead to disappear. It’s always the same, never unchanging. They get so bad, as bad as they force you to not only hear, but see.

  
“I cannot simply say ‘You can become a hero even without power’.”

Looking into the sunken in face of the number 1 hero.

“You’re worthless.”

  
A pair of angry crimson hues stalk.

Frankly, it feels like he’s right, but the work he does now begs to differ.

Being affiliated with the league of villains wasn’t exactly a voluntary choice, but he doesn’t regret it.


	2. A/N

After quite a bit of thought, I’ve decided I’ll update this soon. I may lose motivation for it, and I apologize if I do. 

I’ll try to put something out. I’m working on it as I also type this. 

Thank you.


	3. Discontinued

I thought I was going to continue with this, but I've fallen out of the BNHA fandom quite a bit. 

Perhaps I'll get back into it in the distant future, but until further notice updates are officially terminated if you didn't have a clue by now, lol.


End file.
